Page 18 of Pack Me Up
“So, Brittney, we’ve been in the background of Oli’s life for a while now. We know you’ve been around since we were protecting you as well on the tour, but you didn’t come out much. We really never crossed paths, and I’m guessing you were wearing a scent blocker. I’m so sorry it took us this long to realize who you are to us,” Fox says.
His words shock me. “I mostly stayed in my room or away from the crowds. There’s nothing to be sorry for. Clearly, we didn’t cross paths, or I would have recognized you, too.”
Hunter leans forward. “I’ve been catching whiffs of your scent for months, and it’s been driving me insane. My brothers thought I was going crazy.”
His sweet, boyish smile and the slightly obsessed look in his eyes make me like him already. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, hazel. I’m the luckiest bastard alive for getting those hints of you before the real thing. Your scent is perfect. I want to roll around in it and never bathe.” Hunter leans in and takes another sniff.
“Don’t be a freak, little brother,” Cody starts.
Colton finishes, “You’ll scare the perfect omega off.”
They’re trying to be normal and lighthearted even though this moment is huge. I appreciate it more than they know.
When our food comes, the meal is a blur of small plates, passed around and demolished in minutes. The brothers talk over and around each other, trading stories, memories, one-liners. Sometimes the focus lands on me. They ask what my favorite city is, what I’m writing right now, and what was the first song I loved. I answer honestly, mostly, and when I don’t know what to say, Fox picks up the thread, deflecting gently, or Hunter distracts with some joke.
Cody and Colton keep up the bit, finishing each other’s sentences, arguing over who gets to split the last piece of short rib. At one point, Cody forks a hunk of meat off Colton’s plate while Colton is talking, and Colton doesn’t even blink, just keeps going, like he expects to be raided and it’s all part of the routine.
I realize, about halfway through the meal, that I’m not scared. I’m still nervous, my knee is bouncing, and my hand is white-knuckled on the water glass, but the tension is different now. Less threat, more… anticipation.
I catch Saint watching me. He hasn’t said much, but he doesn’t need to. His presence is a force field, keeping the rest of the world at bay.
For a few beats, the table is just noise, overlapping voices, stories about childhood pranks, and all the times they broke each other’s noses but patched them up after. Fox is quieter, but when he speaks, the rest go silent to listen.
“I did all the bandaging,” he says, smiling sidelong at me. “Didn’t have a license, but I’d watched enough tutorials to fake it. Now I’m the closest thing we have to an actual medic.”
“You’re a doctor?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Pre-med for a while, but security paid better. I couldn’t leave my brothers.” His laugh is soft, almost shy.
Saint rolls his eyes, but it’s affectionate. “Fox keeps us patched up. He’s good with people, even when he doesn’t like them.”
Hunter picks up the thread, “I’m a jack of all trades. I do tech support, logistics, and,” He grins, teeth white against his skin. “If you need a distraction, I’m your guy.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I like the sound of it. “What do you do for a distraction?”
He shrugs. “Anything. I once dressed up as a stripper for a bachelor party to draw out a target. Another time, I set off the fire alarms in a bar because we needed the crowd to scatter.”
Saint looks like he wants to scold, but he just exhales and says, “Hunter is also our best driver. Don’t ask him to prove it, unless you want to lose your dinner.”
I can feel my body relaxing, fraction by fraction, even as my brain screams for me to keep the guard up.
It’s an odd feeling, being seen and not dissected. They’re relentless, but they’re also… present. Every glance, every word, it’s all focused on me, but not in the way I expect. There’s no judgment, just curiosity. Even Saint, for all his rigid control, watches like he’s trying to solve a puzzle, not break it.
I finish a plate and push it away, suddenly exhausted. “I’m sorry if I’m not very entertaining.”
Saint clears his throat. “We don’t need you to be entertaining. We need you to be safe.”
Fox nudges my elbow, so gently I almost miss it. “He means he likes you.”
There’s a jolt of something hot in my stomach, and I wonder if it’s the steak or the way all their eyes go heavy-lidded for a moment, the scent in the air ramping up, shifting from background hum to center stage. It’s not subtle, and it’s not accidental. I catch myself breathing deeper, letting it in, and I hate how good it feels.
Saint smells like mahogany, cracked pepper, and leather. It’s manly and comforting, giving me a sense of his strength through scent alone.
Fox is a mix of apple and cinnamon, less potent than the alphas around him, but just as sweet and tempting.
Hunter’s scent is like breathing the refreshing air of winter. Eucalyptus, peppermint, and somehow the bite of frost surround him.
